


Hungrier

by willowcabins



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: Artifacts Made Them Do It, F/F, Magical Artifacts, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2017-12-13 13:29:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/824830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willowcabins/pseuds/willowcabins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some artifcats need to be chased around the globe; others just require two agents to purchase a necklace in a hotel lobby in Germany. Although the former can be fun, the latter means there's time to do other things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hungrier

**Author's Note:**

> This is dedicated to Rose (carlygrieg) because she's the cutest and the best.

Hungrier

The artifact grazes Myka’s bare wrist as it slips out of her gloved fingers. She moves to catch it, her reflexes quick, but the artifact’s effects suddenly hit her and she can’t breathe. Helena is fast, and catches the necklace right before it bounces on the marble, purple gloved hands guarding her from the effects that Myka is feeling. Myka’s hand goes to her chest as she tries to breathe and Helena looks up, fear shining in her eyes.

“Myka? Myka, are you okay?” Helena is worried: Myka is completely silent. Myka swallows dryly and licks her lips.

“I’m fine,” she tries to claim, the humming in the air around her and the intense need for touch becoming overpowering. Helena grins as Myka tries to stand up.

“The aphrodisiac effects haven’t affected you?” She asks innocently, a smirk playing on her lips. Her lips. Myka just can’t look away: she is hypnotized by their redness, their fullness. She remembers those lips all over her body and suddenly her chest constricts as she can’t breathe again.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Helena has to hand it to her superior agent. Other than her dilated pupils and her fascination with Helena’s lips, her rampant arousal isn’t that obvious to the untrained eye. “Please may you bag the artifact though?” Helena chuckles.

“Kill joy,” she comments before she drops the object in the static bag. There is only light spark-age; Myka gasps slightly. Helena glances at Myka: she’s still staring at Helena hungrily.

“So that didn’t work.” Helena can’t say she minds. She grins at Myka, taking off her glove. “I’m so glad we were able to buy this artifact,” she tells Myka, tucking the purple gloves into her pocket. She puts the static bag into Myka’s briefcase, but it’s still open. She gestures at the elevators up from the empty hotel lobby.

“What are you doing, Helena?” Myka asks, following Helena to the elevator and watching Helena press the button intently. Helena grins.

“I think we’ll have to get rid of this the old fashioned way,” she explains as the elevator doors open. She steps inside and Myka follows. “And I really don’t think it’s fair if you’re the only one under the influence.” As the elevators door close, Helena puts her hand into the open static bag and lightly brushes the artifact. The effect is instantaneous.

“Myka,” she gasps, her respect for the secret service agent sky rocketing as she realizes _how_ aroused Myka is. She drops the briefcase on the ground and grabs Myka by the lapels of her jacket, pulling her against herself as she backs against the elevator wall, their lips crashing together in a frenzy. The elevator slows down, gravity pushing Helena into Myka’s thigh to which Helena responds with a whimper. The doors open with a ding and Myka breaks the kiss, breathing heavily. She grabs Helena’s hand and ducks out of the lift into the empty corridor. Helena knows Myka’s bringing them to her room, but the loss of physical contact is painful, so she pushes Myka against the nearest wall, silencing her protest with a searing kiss as she pushes Myka’s hands over her head, braceletting her wrists with her long elegant fingers. Her other hand disappears under Myka’s light jacket to palm Myka’s breast.

“Helena, this is not okay,” Myka protests as Helena’s lips leave her mouth free to protest.

“Is it really though? From what I understand, the 21st century has a lot loser morals,” Helena murmurs, nipping at the shell of Myka’s ear. Her whisper is hot on Myka’s already burning skin as she tries to reply coherently.

“I meant,” Myka begins, interrupted by her own gasp as Helena switches the hand that holds Myka’s wrists in order to palm her right breast, but this time her hand slips underneath Myka’s light grey shirt and her black bra in order to stimulate the already hard nipple. She focuses on Helena’s lips, which are formed in a wolfish grin. “I meant I am not okay with,” she exhales as Helena begins sucking at her neck, but continues on her train of thought. “I’m not okay with the amount of clothes you’re wearing. And me. The amount of clothes we’re wearing.”

Helena chuckles at Myka’s flustered state, her laughter cold across the wet skin, making Myka shiver apprehensively. “Good point,” Helena agrees with a whisper, letting go of Myka’s wrists. Myka threads her hands through Helena’s and drags her to the door of her hotel room. Helena digs out the key from Myka’s pocket, applying pressure and making Myka hiss as Helena crowds her personal space. Myka inserts the key card, but pulls out the key too fast, the little red light flashing red.

“I preferred old fashioned locks,” Helena whispers into Myka’s ear, brushing Myka’s hair aside so she has better access to whisper hotly. Myka shivers and swallows, trying to concentrate on the key card.

 “That’s just because you like picking them,” Myka replies, inserting the key card with an unnecessary slow deliberation, that does finally open the door. She stumbles inside, positively drunk with the arousal diluting her blood. She turns around to face Helena and immediately pulls at Helena’s top impatiently as Helena begins to busy herself with Myka’s buttons. The Keycard drops the floor, forgotten, as the heavy hotel room door bang shut leaving them to their privacy.

The buttons on the blouse take too long: Helena quickly pulls it over Myka’s head as Myka pushes Helena’s blazer off her shoulders. Helena trips over it as Myka backs her towards the bed as their mouths find each other again, desperate for touch. Myka tries to find the button on Helena’s jeans, but Helena quickly takes over. “Boots,” she reminds Myka, gesturing to her shoes. Myka grins and, as the back of Helena’s legs reach the bed and she falls down softly, Myka goes down on her knees, her hands tracing the length of Helena’s thigh and calf before she slowly unzips the boots and frees Helena’s feet. She quickly pulls off Helena’s jeans before straddling her, her own jean clad legs providing excellent friction for Helena.

“Now _you’re_ overdressed, darling,” Helena pants, as she grins up at Myka. Myka just shifts, her knee pressed against Helena’s underwear. Helena’s back arches as her hips buck involuntarily.

“Later,” Myka promises, lying on top of Helena, carefully beginning her worship of Helena’s body. “First, I am hungry.” Myka’s voice is husky with arousal and Helena gasps as Myka bites her neck, hard. She’s sucking, determined to leave a mark, as her right hand tries to find Helena’s bra clasp.

“It’s at the front,” Helena gasps, realizing belatedly what Myka’s fumbling was about. Myka hums in interest, abandoning the blooming mark on Helena’s neck to undo the bra with a grin.

“I like this,” she murmurs as Helena’s back arches, her hips rocking into Myka’s thigh as Myka mouth fastens itself on her nipple as her hand trails down Helena’s stomach to apply some much needed pressure to Helena’s slick center. “And this,” Myka adds, shifting downwards so she is perched between Helena’s thighs. She slowly peels off Helena’s underwear and drags her finger through Helena’s folds before she sucks her finger. “So eager for me.” Her voice is husky and Helena clenches the sheet, her body unable to deal with Myka, sitting between her legs, _enjoying_ her.  

“Myka.” It’s a plea, a quiet tentative question that escapes Helena’s lips and runs straight to Myka’s core, as she swallows heavily. Helena begging may just be her favorite thing ever. She leans down and bites Helena’s inner thigh as her fingers enters her slowly. Helena is so close: Myka pushes into her, speeding up her hand as she feels the contraction and release of the walls. She curls her fingers slightly as Helena’s hands thread through her hair and direct her mouth towards her clit. Myka smiles as Helena’s hips surge into Myka’s mouth, hot breath making Helena gasp and clench the sheets with ardent ferocity. Myka hums as her mouth closes around Helena’s clit. Helena comes in pulses of pleasure as her back arches and Myka steadies her hips as she watches Helena come undone.

When Helena can open her eyes again, she is still breathing heavily. Myka crawls up her frame, extracting her fingers, and lies down next to Helena. She maintains eye contact as she licks her fingers clean, humming happily.

“You know, when I was a child, I went through a phase where I refused to eat anything but bread with honey. I had it for breakfast, lunch and dinner. It was my favorite food. You taste like that honey.” Her voice is still husky with her own arousal, and in that one moment, her hair mussed as it is and her lips shiny with Helena, Helena realizes this is all any person could ever want. She leans forward to kiss Myka slowly. Myka opens her mouth to her, shivering as Helena licks into her, tasting herself in Myka’s mouth.

“I can’t believe you’re still wearing your jeans,” Helena murmurs against Myka’s lips. Myka’s breathing heavily and she can’t look away from Helena’s lips, even in their close proximity.

“Yeah, you should really help me out with that,” Myka agrees. Helena chuckles as Myka sits up, though the loss of warmth created by physical intimacy makes her push herself up too. Myka’s on her knees and fumbling with her buttons. Helena just reaches for the jeans. Myka gasps slightly at the pressure as Helena pushes the jeans and pants over Myka’s ass, watching Myka’s face with a reverence reserved to jaded time travelers and their girlfriends.

Myka’s eyes flutter open and she catches Helena’s look and smiles back, brushing Helena’s hair aside and carefully stroking her cheek with her thumb.

“You’re beautiful,” Myka whispers, slowly kissing Helena, trying to express her desire and her adoration and her uncontrollable lust for Helena in the kiss. Helena cups Myka’s cheek and accepts the kiss, appreciative hums thrumming in her throat. They sit there in the unmade bed for a while, Myka grinding into Helena’s lap as she explores her mouth with her tongue.

The slick press of Myka’s arousal on Helena’s thigh makes Helena push the secret service agent on to the bed lightly. “I think it’s your turn now,” Helena hums lightly against the skin of Myka’s neck. Myka just swallows.


End file.
